Ruled By Secrecy
by shattered petal
Summary: The dog is loyal. The dog is patient. Yet his master, his lover, his Queen–– she never returns. -Link/Midna, lemon


**Title**: Ruled By Secrecy  
**Genres**: Angst/Romance  
**Rating**: M  
**Couple**: Link/Midna

* * *

"_So how long have you and Princess Midna been together then?"_

"_We're not together."_

"_Oh. I just thought."_

They won't think for much longer. Soon, the rumours will diminish and they shall find more interesting topics to discuss. While he knows the horrors which await, he looks forward to that moment. He'll be free at last, no longer weighed down by chains. Gossip becomes too much. Link isn't used to it, he's a farm boy, expecting silence and smiles.

Not many have witnessed her, not as the imp anyway, and Link doesn't wish to change that. When he first lay eyes on what she truly was, behind the mask, behind the veil, it felt as if he had climbed the tree, reached too far, and slipped. The fall will always hinder his movements.

Only a fool believes something is there, that love is true, and very real. It _feels_ real, it burns his heart, brightens his mind, makes him scream internally. For a long time, Link has loved her, deeply. A curse. It tastes like poison. He swallows, tries to get rid of the taste, but whenever he sees her, his heart explodes. In the end, he only fought for her.

A Knight always fights for his Queen. That is all.

But what is a Knight who continues to cling onto a crown? A piece of jewellery, of honour, that should never belong to him. Compared to her, compared to such beauty and magnificence, Link is a disease. A dirty, worthless soul. All he has in life is farm work, of herding goats, selling food. Soon, he will return to this life, this time when he isn't _him_.

One day, they will depart. And he will be the only one who reaches for her. Who waits. Who waits for thousands of years.

The dog is loyal. The dog is patient.

Yet his master, his lover, his Queen–– she never returns.

* * *

Jealousy.

Afar, he watches, furious blue eyes studying each individual. They look at her, smile bashfully, then turn away. To them, she is a picture. A picture of vibrant, powerful colours, of evil and delight. Her eyes glow, her hair dark and gorgeous, but she is human. And she is beautiful. When she looks at him, he can't breathe. When she looks away, he corrodes within.

It's torture. Every second. His heart burns, singes, wounding his lungs.

–– 'You've had quite a few, Link. I'm surprised you could stomach it.' She laughs. It's light and cheerful. 'This is impressive. You are such a lightweight.'

_She's laughing_. Tired eyes meet hers and he chuckles. 'I'm full of surprises.'

There is a moment when she studies him, reads him like a book, never missing an inch of his face. 'I know.'

* * *

He needs to heal. Fresh blood oozes from his wounds and he curses at himself, dabbing the injury with alcohol. He's attending to himself, but roughly and quickly. He wants to get this over with. There are other things he wants to do. Wounds are a hassle. Link has always been a patient man, always gentle and warm, but with himself he isn't so kind.

The door opens. Feet are light against the ground, she balances herself well. He waits, his sharp senses recognising her scent, her movements, her _voice_. 'Look at you.' It's disbelief, irritation, frustration. Link turns, watches the Princess face him, but her eyes don't meet his. She's focussed on his wounds, her wonderful red orbs full of concern.

She's clever and already knows where the medical equipment is. It's not much, but it'll do. Grabbing the tiny box, she repeats his method, dabbing the wounds, and he hisses. He hisses because of the pain, because she is healing him properly. He hisses because her touch is soft, unlike her nature, so soft and gentle. So wonderful.

Opening his eyes, Link looks at her, and he is distracted. Never has he witnessed a woman close. While he may appear it, Link isn't confident around the opposite gender. He never had the time for relationships, to be in search of a mate. All he ever had was her, this lady who is now on her knees, treating him.

She notices his line of gaze and he turns away, ashamed, embarrassed.

No one laughs. No one talks.

Then she takes his hand. Her flesh is cold, yet his is scolding. She almost flinches from the heat, but she is used to his temperature. They have touched before. She guides his hand, unbuttons a little of her top, revealing more to him. Then, she allows his hand to rest between her breasts, and he looks, but there is no hunger in his eyes.

Pure, white innocence. He's interested, fascinated, uncertain. _He's young_. Link doesn't move his hand, he keeps it there, not daring to touch elsewhere. She has not consented to be touched elsewhere. She's too precious for him to disobey. Too much for his heart to handle.

He sighs.

Link moves his hand away, keeps it at his side. There is a pause, and she buttons her top, before returning to his wounds. Neither speak. But neither have ever felt so intimate. A barrier breaks away. He begins to shiver, begins to ache, but this has nothing to do with the injuries now.

* * *

Several days ago, Link realised her motives.

Zelda knows too, but she remains quiet. She stays out of business which does not involve her. She is respectful, a good woman, a proud Ruler. Yet he knows she silently agrees with Midna. While it will crush his heart, shatter his soul into thousands of pieces, it is for the best. For both of their Realms to live and breathe.

Despite how much it hurts him, Link never says a word about the matter. Because he trusts her. He trusts her with his entire being. He knows she is smart, she is wise, she is strong. Her opinions matter more than his. It has always been that way.

For a couple of days, Midna is vacant. Her absence in the Twilight Realm has been noticed, and she must redeem herself. He misses her. Each waking day is a chore, and he waits. He works with Zelda, helps her construct the Castle again, helps her think of amazing plans for the future of Hyrule. Yet he is only a warrior. Soon, she won't consider his views as high and mighty for long.

A fierce reputation doesn't last forever.

But reputation has never mattered to Link.

* * *

It's late.

The moon shines, casting shadows onto the world below. Spooky images are portrayed on the walls of houses, and children giggle and snicker, entertained by the shapes they make. It's sad. Link has never been one of those children. To not care, to not do anything, to just be _themselves_. He smiles, though, and walks past, pretending to be cheery and content.

Yet, slowly, his heart begins to blacken, to stop beating. He feels empty. Lifeless.

Link's fingertips litter the glass. They reflect the scars across his body, how much suffering he endured during his travels. How much he had to sacrifice to save Princess Zelda, to save Hyrule, to save the Twilight Realm, to save _her_.

He drinks, slowly. This time, he doesn't drink himself silly. Link isn't that sort of man. He's considerate and wise. He knows what he's doing.

Telma notices his lack of enthusiasm. She attempts to brighten his mood with jokes, more alcohol, then bravely asks if he wishes to talk. Link shakes his head and rents a room. He won't be coming home tonight. As far as he's concerned, there isn't a home waiting for him anymore.

He hasn't finished his drink when she appears. _She knew he was here_._ She only came back for him_. Link turns, looks at her, exhales slowly, eyes droop. She looks exhausted, and he dreads to imagine what has happened to her. Foolishly, he stands to his feet, waits for her to speak, but neither say anything. It's unusual, watching her in silence, but her eyes speak so many words.

Neither are happy. Yet neither are happier without the other.

They need to be alone.

Their fingertips brush together, and he escorts her to the rented room where they can be alone, undisturbed. Both are no longer thinking, finally their hearts are at rest and everything makes sense. Once they enter, the room welcomes them, hides them from the world, from their frowns and disapproving looks. Just them. How it should be.

What they have wanted for so long.

'Tell me what happened.'

She doesn't speak. Words are useless. They pass and go. They don't stay.

When they kiss, it's gentle. Their lips barely brush. They don't dare hurt each other, they're so scared of hurting each other. The two have enough wounds to bare. His lips are hot, burning her own, but she clings to him. _She isn't supposed to cling_. His breaths are shaky, and his heart races. They pull away, only slightly, shocked, amazed, relieved.

Once more, their lips meet, just as softly as before. It's driving her crazy, how he's so gentle with her, so careful. She's growing desperate and it's killing her. Her hand finds the back of his head and she pushes him to her, kisses him tightly, pressing their bodies together. Link responds, is aware she has consented, and there is nothing he can do to stop himself now.

They kiss, warm and deeply, searching the other, their trembling hands roaming. He shivers, she burns, and they collide onto the bed, still trying to find themselves. As if they are trapped in a dark, dark room, rummaging around, searching for each other. Desperate. Worried. Concerned. _Pleading_.

She pulls at his lower lip, but despite her powerful presence, her dominating personality, she submits to him, lets him take control. They kiss, passionately, hungrily, and she finds his tunic, his belt, slips it off. It takes every ounce of strength in him to not rip away her clothing, to let it release slowly, carefully, let her reveal herself to him.

The markings across her thighs, stomach, arms, ears–– they glow. Illuminate in the dark. They seduce him, draw him to her, make him breathless. Link is stunned, and when the black material falls he cannot breathe. Never has he witnessed someone so perfect, so beautiful and divine. Unbeknownst to him, she feels mutual, amazed a strong, supreme man could ever exist.

He kisses her body, marking her as his own, feels her tense beneath him, and he catches her mouth in his again. Soon, he, too, is stripped from his armour. They find each other, watch each other, catching their breath, frightened, excited, worried–– neither can believe what they're doing. It is wrong. It is _horrific_. It is right, and nothing else has felt more right than this.

Softly, they kiss once more.

Then he lowers himself, and she winces, holding his arms, stopping him. Link doesn't dare move, fear strangling his heart. _He has hurt her_. They tremble, shudder, and she seems to grow impatient. She pulls him closer, and she struggles to remain silent. Link gasps, clenches onto the sheets, takes his time, _there is no longer any rush_.

He's moving, gently. She is prepared, but not ready. He rocks forwards, and his breath catches, watching her, wanting her to nod, to speak, to do something. But she is silent, not looking at him, and it breaks his heart. Then she runs a hand down his arm, and squeezes, and he notices a little smile, a small, sad smile. He can't bear staying still any longer and moves again, wanting her closer and closer.

A moan escapes her lips. It's more like a sigh, but it is pleasing to his ears. Link rocks, deeper, closer, nearer, he's slow and gentle. Neither want to be quick, they want to remain like this forever. Together. As one. Just each other. Nothing was more perfect than this.

Midna's hands fall from his arms, curl around his middle and she embraces him. He can feel her heartbeat. It's strong and fast, keeping her alive. Link's hair falls over his eyes and he lowers his gaze to look at her again, and smiles. It's a happy smile, but, for some reason, he feels as if he is about to cry.

How could an act of love have them in so much agony?

When he moves, she moves with him, her body responding eagerly to his touches. He's scorching her, whereas she obliviously intoxicates the man, infects him with her poison and evil. Link opens his mouth and groans, narrowing his brows, his body falling over hers a little faster. His entire form throbs, and his mind races.

Link stops, only for a moment, to fall onto his elbows, brush a finger across her cheek. 'I shan't leave you,' he whispers, and she is the one who cries. She is silent, yet the tears escape, and she finds it hard to look at him. _She doesn't deserve someone who is full of goodness_.

Only in her sadness and shame does she hold on. She loves him too much. She has fallen into such a humane trap, all she can feel is bitterness.

His smile is soft and innocent while he continues, always slow, always careful. He turns his gaze, spots their shadows painted onto the wall. How they move perfectly together, how he has succumbed to the devil, her gorgeous red orbs boring into his, melting the ice, and she is a fire. A furious fire, and he melts, moans, and exclaims.

She claims him, her arms firmly around his middle, and she is completely and utterly his. Link is shivering, loving the noises she makes, wanting her to make more, wanting her to _beg_. It's terrible, absolutely terrible how much he wants her closer when she is as close as she could ever be. No, it doesn't satisfy him. He needs her. Wants her in every way possible.

Both grow sore, but neither stop. She kisses his warm neck, her hands press against his hard chest, and he finds her lips. Their tongues battle, fight, their kisses are wet and exhausted. Their pace quickens, and his legs ache, but they don't stop. _Don't stop, don't stop_. He moans against her mouth, his chest brushing against hers, _he's so warm_ and wonderful. She gasps, shocked at how powerful he has become.

The ordeal finishes suddenly, but neither rest, they continue to kiss, to hold each other. They kiss for hours, the newfound lovers now radiating with warmth and betrayal.

When he surrenders and rests beside her, she wastes no time to fall into his embrace. They hold each other, refusing to have any gaps between them, his arms secure around her body, and her hands trail down his rough face. Link closes his eyes, soothed by her massages, her touch. He exhales slowly, his body tired yet glowing with life.

Hours pass. It is morning, but neither are able to sleep. They are too afraid that she'll wake up and decide to leave. He has to keep his eyes open, and she has to remain conscious. Neither speak. They kiss, they hold each other, they touch, they rest.

Sunlight pours into the curtained window. Midna looks at him, and he's smiling.

'My love.'

And he kisses her one last time, sealing the doors, the possibilities. He lives a dream, and has created an idea in his mind. _He's so young_.

While his words are full of honesty, she truly knows what he means. For those words aren't an expression of his affections or his loyalty. They are a promise. A promise to follow her to the grave.

* * *

**author's note**: I can't believe I wrote this. Lemons are tricky to write. I dislike graphic lemons, so sorry if I disappointed you. In fact, sorry if I disappointed you overall. I'm not that great with this sort of stuff but I wanted to give it a go. Obviously not the cheeriest of oneshots, but it is _Link and Midna_. This is set after TP, but before Midna leaves. I imagined Link and her would still need time to recover before heading their way to Arbiter's Grounds. Thanks for reading. Feedback is greatly appreciated.


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